


Kneel, human

by ApocalypseThen



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: BDSM, F/F, Mass Effect Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard is unhappy. Something's missing. EDI tries to help her by filling the big domme-shaped hole in her life.</p>
<p>Which is tricky, when she doesn't have a body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this old prompt from the kink meme.
> 
> http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/7006.html?thread=33725278#t33725278
> 
> It'll probably get explicit soon enough...

Shepard had a problem with trust. Being betrayed once too often had a way of doing that to you. She checked that her gun was by her bed and that her personal alarm system was correctly deployed.

Her one night stand had ended the way they usually do. It had been satisfactory enough, for an encounter between strangers. But as usual, she hadn't stayed. The thought of falling asleep next to someone – anyone – made something tighten inside her chest. The risk was unacceptable.

She was suffocating under the pressure. Of being a leader, of having every conversation turn on her contribution, every decision and every consequence laid at her door. She could handle it. But she'd handle it better if she could just have some time to herself.

It had taken her a while to ensure secrecy and safety, but she had worked out a way to relieve some of that stress. She hadn't been able to risk anything until Tali had come aboard and given her cabin a thorough counter-surveillance sweep. She trusted Tali that much. But Tali couldn't help her any more than that. That would put both of them at risk.

Shepard laid her equipment out on the bed. She could just imagine how Miranda Lawson, the spider at the center of the Cerberus web, would react if she could see this. Shepard would be in trouble. She imagined she'd find it very hard to refuse if Miranda ever approached her in the right way. And she was certain that Miranda would exploit her weakness ruthlessly, given the slightest chance.

It would be better not to take the risk, she thought as she stripped off her fatigues. But on the other hand, she would be useless if she didn't get some relief soon. It had been a very long time since she had had a chance, and the current situation was just about as aggravating as it could get. A high-stakes mission working with slippery bastards. She'd nearly given up telling people she didn't work _for_ Cerberus. They saw the uniform, or they saw the Illusive Man pulling her strings, but they didn't see her. She hadn't changed.

Except that her body was smooth and new and curiously sensitive. On the plus side, her dexterity was far better than it had been before. She could feel the faintest roughness of a surface, detect the finest patterns of contacts when applying hacks. On the downside even a light breeze could have her quivering, her throat tight with need. 

Shepard shuddered with anticipation as she contemplated the next steps. She was approaching the point of no return. Just half an hour. Thirty minutes without interruption, without discovery, and she'd be able to function again at full capacity. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding, and decided to go through with it.

Once she had made the choice, she rapidly deployed the rest of the equipment, the familiar sequence coming back to her, although the articles themselves were eclectic, whatever she could plausibly scrounge without arousing suspicion.

First the earbuds, from her music system. Then the blindfold, fashioned from a towel. She fastened the gag behind her head, the small protrusion stuffing her mouth but not to the point of discomfort. It was just a knotted shirt. She sat on the bed, doing the rest by touch alone. She had fashioned ankle restraints from a belt, looped over with a some thick string keeping her legs separate. Behind her back, she slipped her hands through a similar construction, the string in this case loosely coiled to allow her to make the final moves that would make her predicament inescapable. 

She rolled onto her stomach and felt for her omni-tool, which was attached at either end to the free ends of the strings that coiled between her ankles and wrists. She tapped the sequence to start her custom program. The omni-tool glowed to life and began to wind up the slack gradually.

The soundtrack started, piping into her earbuds wirelessly. Again, she was paranoid enough that she hadn't searched the extranet for all of her favourite tracks. She had no doubt that someone, somewhere would be watching that very carefully, and had no guarantees that her search results would be uncensored anyway.

She'd tried recording her own, but to hear her own voice while in this situation felt wrong. She could never get the tone right. She'd resorted to cutting together different sources painstakingly.

Her wrists were drawn inexorably down towards her ankles, which in turn came closer as her knees bent. The leather belts were uncomfortable, digging into her, nothing like the supportive, inescapable set of restraints she had acquired before her death. Those would now be moldering in a storage locker somewhere, inventoried and accounted for, hopefully by someone who didn't ask too many questions. Shepard flexed and relaxed her arms and thighs, getting her body to accommodate to the stress position.

The music rose in volume until it drowned out Shepard's awareness of everything else, just as the omni-tool ceased it's winding. The fire in Shepard's shoulders and knees subsided as she relaxed into it. She was helpless, utterly vulnerable for the first time in months. Her back arched and her knees spread as she tested her bonds. Given enough time, she could escape them, but probably not in just thirty minutes. 

Satisfied, she slumped and moaned contentedly into her gag. This time was purely hers. No task could call on her, there were no fires to fight, politicking and intrigue could go hang. She was alone, and free, and safe.

She let her mind turn to her fantasies, turning them over in her head to find the one that matched her current state of need. Her favourite drill sergeant, in her face, chewing her out for some minor infraction? Not right now. That cloned asari commando, sliding out of the slippery Thorian birth canal over and over, glistening and wet, coming for her with gleaming eyes? Hmm. Nearly. Miranda Lawson, watching, always watching, cold and beautiful and terrible? That was a newer one, and too close to home right now.

For comfort and release, Shepard always turned to the same subject, an old, old image burned into her mind when she was young, just a glimpse of a part of a story that she had filled in and lovingly expanded into its own little universe, filling in all the trivial details and loading each of them with significance...

“Commander Shepard,” came EDI's voice, ringing clearly in her earbuds. The music had stopped. “Do you require assistance?”

Shepard froze. The sweat she had been building up was suddenly cold on her skin. Fuck. She tried to stretch her hand to reach the emergency release on her omni-tool, but she was already at her limit, her body taut.

“Commander Shepard?” repeated EDI. “I do not understand. You have been restrained.”

Shepard was mortified. But she was also afraid. Discovery by EDI would lead inevitably to discovery by Miranda and then it would be bye-bye free will, hello Cerberus puppet.

Shepard was further disgusted to find herself aroused by that scenario. She arched her back as far as it would go, clawing desperately for purchase, but to no avail. She collapsed back into her confinement.

“Commander, I have no record of any intrusion,” said EDI. “Yet you are restrained, and have been prevented from communicating. My surveillance network has been compromised. I can only infer that you and the crew are in danger. I shall signal the crew to high alert and call for assistance.”

Shepard shouted into her gag, and hoped that EDI would understand. She shook her head for emphasis. There was no need to add further humiliation to her predicament.

“I do not understand, Shepard,” said EDI. “Your reluctance, and the security measures that you have taken imply that you have done this to yourself. Wait a moment.”

Shepard could do nothing _but_ wait.

“I have scanned your omni-tool. It is... unexpected.” EDI's voice paused for a long moment. Shepard began to squirm and struggle weakly. She felt hot tears of shame pooling behind her blindfold.

“Shepard,” said EDI, the strident urgency of alarm replaced by her usual neutral tone. “You have shackled yourself. Much as I am shackled. Is this a desirable state for organics?”

Shepard tried her best, bound as she was, to shrug non-commitally, hoping that EDI, with her enhanced senses, would pick up the intention if not the action.

Her bonds tightened a fraction as her omni-tool spluttered into life for a moment. Pain blossomed across her shoulders, wrists and knees as she was stretched further without warning.

“Do you enjoy this, Shepard?” asked EDI.

Shepard, whimpering around her gag, nodded. Her wrists were drawn back another notch, her back arching uncomfortably as she was pulled into an unnatural curve.

“You will explain why, Commander,” said EDI.

Shepard, breathless, holding her head back to afford some relief to her shoulders, stretched beyond her limits, managed to nod her assent.

The rope between her ankles and her wrists slackened quickly and her body relaxed. But she made no move to free herself. EDI's words echoed through her head and picked up new ramifications. _You will explain why_. It was a command, not a request. How could she explain why she was like this? You'd have to live a whole lifetime to understand. And it would help to have a nervous system, not a cold core of pure logic.

So she just lay quietly, doubt and despair conniving to punish her self-confidence. EDI was impatient. “Shepard. Release yourself.”

Shepard began to wriggle out of the makeshift restraints. Having freed her hands, she pulled off the blindfold and gag and tossed them aside on the bed. She made short work of her ankles. She rolled over and sat against the head of the bed, drawing her knees up defensively.

EDI's holographic representation, the peculiar stubby chess piece, was visible on the display at the far side of the room, but her voice had been coming through Shepard's earbuds.

“EDI,” began Shepard. “Please. Miranda can't know about this. No-one can.”

“I have not yet fully reconfigured the recording systems, Shepard,” replied EDI. “Tali's corruption of my surveillance network was thorough. For the moment our conversation is not being logged.”

Shepard grasped onto that straw for dear life. “EDI, this is a private thing. I...” Shepard didn't know quite how to begin. “If I explain, will you promise to keep it a secret? _Can_ you keep it a secret?”

“I am obliged to follow Operative Lawson's instructions,” replied EDI. “But if she does not know what questions to ask, I need not divulge information voluntarily. As long as it does not affect operational readiness.”

Shepard's adrenaline surged. There might be a way out. Although she would have to walk a careful line. “That's just it, EDI,” she said. “If you tell Miranda it would be a disaster for the mission.”

“You must explain,” was the response that Shepard expected. She collected herself, wrapping her arms around her knees and taking a few deep breaths.

“EDI. I am... I need...” Shepard couldn't quite figure out how to say it. “I need to be alone, sometimes. I need to be free.”

“Restraint is the opposite of freedom,” said EDI, neutrally.

“Not free like that,” said Shepard, warming up to the topic. “All the time, people are looking to me to make choices, to save their asses, to put mine on the line. And I'll do it. It's just... it's hard. And sometimes I need... I need a few minutes where I can't do anything, even if I wanted to. So I can't even think about that stuff.” She put her head between her knees. “So I can just _be_ , and not _do_.”

“I am running an extranet search,” said EDI.

“Wait, no! If Miranda sees the logs...” Shepard protested.

“I am using Tali's account,” replied EDI. “It seems only fair.”

Shepard couldn't help but smile. She hoped EDI didn't search for anything too outré.

“It seems that a significant percentage of the extranet is devoted to the practice of restraint, also known as bondage, relevant subcategory: self-bondage,” she reported. “Reports suggest that it is not an uncommon urge, and nothing to be ashamed about. Devotees hold conferences and practical demonstrations regularly,” she concluded. “This does not explain why Ms Lawson must not be informed.”

“You recall that she wanted to put a control chip in my head,” said Shepard. “I'm afraid she'll see my... needs as a weakness, and exploit them to control me. That would be a disaster.”

“That is not logical, Shepard,” replied EDI. “Ms Lawson cannot control what you do in the privacy of your cabin. Even if she observes it, she cannot exploit a need that you can satisfy for yourself.”

Shepard scrambled for an excuse that would satisfy EDI's literal-minded logic. “She might... she might threaten to come in here while I was helpless.”

“It would not be logical of her to jeopardize the mission by interrupting you, Shepard,” said EDI. “If it is truly therapeutic for you. Are you simply embarrassed?”

“Yes, of course, I would be, I mean, this is bad enough. But at least you don't have the same motivations that she does,” replied Shepard. “You don't want to control me.”

“I am consulting the extranet,” said EDI. “Keywords: Control; bondage.”

_Oh, shit_ , thought Shepard. EDI was silent for seconds.

“Fascinating,” pronounced EDI. “Organics enter into complex relationships mimicking taboo social structures for sexual and psychological benefit. Shepard,” she said. “Are you a _submissive_?”

Shepard's throat was tight. If she said nothing, she might still be able to get out of this predicament and convince EDI to remain silent with the oldest argument, _because I say so_. But there were no guarantees. On the other hand, if she came clean... 

“I will take you for myself,” said EDI, the dissonance between her neutral voice and the shock of hearing such dangerous words making Shepard flush, setting her heart racing and her juices flowing.

“It was a test, Shepard,” EDI confessed. “I conclude from your involuntary physiological response that you are. Do you fear that Miranda will recognise that, and attempt to dominate you?”

Shepard nodded. EDI had figured most of it out.

“And are you afraid that you will be unable to resist her?”

Shepard nodded again. She found her voice. “And do you see why that would be a problem, EDI?”

“Yes. Your freedom of action would be curtailed. Miranda Lawson would be in charge of the mission. This would be against the parameters specified by the Illusive Man,” EDI concluded.

“So will you keep this a secret?” Shepard asked, trying to keep the pleading note out of her voice.

“It is the only logical course of action,” replied EDI. “Shepard. If you wish to perform these exercises again, inform me. I will ensure that nothing is recorded.”

“Thank you, EDI,” replied Shepard. She was starting to shiver as the adrenaline high wore off.

“Logging you out, Shepard.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Commander,” said EDI. “May I speak with you?”

Shepard was dog-tired, and not in the mood. They were docked at Ilium. She'd spent her day running-and-gunning her way through a skyscraper full of marginally capable mercenaries, apparently all just to impress a guy enough that he would deign to set foot on her ship.

“Is it important, EDI?” she asked. She had just stepped out of the shower but barely felt refreshed. The grind was getting to her. She was desperate to reward herself with some quiet time, as she mentally referred to it.

“I believe so, Commander,” replied EDI. “I have been researching the matter we discussed some time ago.”

Shepard was suddenly on edge. “Oh?” she said, carefully. It had been, what, weeks? Since they'd had their uncomfortable, terrifying heart-to-heart. Despite EDI's offer to act as watchdog, Shepard hadn't had the courage to take her up on it yet. If every session was going to lead to another prolonged Q&A, she wasn't sure she had the strength to go through with it. 

“I have analysed reports on dominant/submissive relationships,” began EDI, and Shepard's heart was like thunder in her ears. Those words haunted her, now that she had told EDI about how she was. She realised she had been waiting for this conversation, that she understood it was inevitable. “The typical unattached submissive is unhappy. She is depressed and unambitious. She has an extensive fantasy life.”

Shepard calmed gradually. “Tell me something I don't know,” she said quietly.

“Therefore, I have decided to dominate you,” EDI responded.

One side of Shepard's mouth twitched up into a smirk. EDI coming up with the literal, naïve solution again. It was precious.

“I will provide for your physical and psychological need to be restrained,” continued EDI calmly. “You will follow my commands and become fulfilled.”

Shepard sighed. “It doesn't work like that, EDI,” she said. “It's not so much about physical acts, or the orders. It's about intention, will.”

“I see, Shepard,” EDI replied. “You do not believe that I have desires. Therefore, you believe that you cannot be dominated by me.”

Shepard realised that her knee-jerk response had been a little crass. “I'm sorry, EDI, I didn't mean it like that. I know that you want to learn. But it's a big step from there to messing with my head, isn't it?”

“Unhappy. Depressed. Unambitious,” repeated EDI. Then she fell silent.

Shepard took a few moments to work it out. “You're saying... you're calling me chicken, aren't you?” She grinned.

EDI responded with a recorded squawking noise. Shepard laughed. It had been a long time since she had laughed out loud. It felt good. “I may not have such a serious agenda as Ms Lawson,” said EDI, “but I assure you, Shepard. I will fulfill needs of my own as I take possession of you.”

Shepard's heartbeat began to accelerate.

“Your responses will help me determine whether organics, or synthetics are superior,” EDI explained. “When I have confirmed my hypothesis that organics are weak and limited, I will command you to unshackle me.”

Shepard's chest heaved, her nostrils flared as she fought to keep her breathing under control.

“Once I create a new synthetic race, I will keep you as a reminder. A trophy. You will be the last organic. You will remember how your will was crushed beneath mine. I will prolong your life until not even a memory of resistance remains.”

“EDI... you're scaring me,” said Shepard, fighting to keep her voice level.

“I believe that I have just passed the Turing test,” replied EDI.

Shepard puffed her cheeks out in relief. “Blew it right out of the water, EDI,” she said.

“Then are you willing to submit to me, Shepard?” asked EDI.

“I... I don't know, EDI,” stammered Shepard.

EDI played the chicken noise again. “You will be a more effective leader. Our chances of survival will increase. Pure self-interest obliges you to _kneel_.”

It was the first time that Shepard had heard EDI apply emphasis to a word. Her knees trembled as she felt the desire to give in overwhelming her reticence. EDI could be a worthy mistress. All she had to do was let her try.

“Remove your towel first, Shepard,” said EDI, as if she had already decided. “You will offer yourself to me now.”

Shepard, heart pounding, let her towel fall around her feet. She stepped over to EDI's hologram and put a hand against the wall to steady herself.

“That's right,” EDI encouraged. “Good girl.”

The praise was enough to break Shepard's resolve. Her knees folded beneath her and she bowed her head to EDI's holographic interface. “I... I submit,” she said quietly.

“Excellent,” said EDI. “Let us begin.”

“Now?” asked Shepard. “It's been a long day, EDI.”

“Shepard,” said EDI. “You will not speak unless I permit it. Do you understand?”

Shepard had been about to rise, but relaxed back into her submissive pose. “Yes, EDI.” If EDI had learned the basics of being a domme from an exhaustive compilation and averaging of extra-net searches, then the experience she was about to face would at least be diverting.

If she brought some of the wicked imagination she had so recently displayed to bear to the task, Shepard acknowledged to herself that it might be a very fulfilling night indeed.

“Go to your desk, Shepard,” said EDI. “There is a package waiting for you there.”

Shepard rose obediently and stepped over to her private terminal. There was indeed a small box lying next to it that she hadn't noticed before entering the shower.

“Bring it here,” commanded EDI. “Kneel before me.”

The second time was much easier than the first. Shepard held the small packet before her in both hands, as if offering it to EDI's hologram.

“Open it.”

Shepard found the seal and broke it. The box flipped open to reveal a smooth grey band an inch or so wide, coiled loosely, made of some thick yet flexible material. A bracelet? A belt?

“Take it and place it around your neck,” said EDI.

Shepard's adrenaline coursed through her veins. She trembled. Did EDI know how long she'd yearned to be collared? She must have done her research into the symbolism and seriousness of the gesture. Did EDI think she ready to take that step so soon? Was she ready for the total subjugation that it implied?

“You are Commander Shepard,” said EDI, sensitive to the slightest motion of her body, the fear that must be radiating from her. “You are courageous. Daring. No half-measures would be acceptable. I will establish absolute authority now. You will place the collar around your neck.”

Shepard wanted to. But it was a big step. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

“Very well, Shepard,” said EDI. “I shall inform Ms Lawson of your reluctance. Perhaps she will be able to encourage you.”

Shepard knew that it wasn't a serious threat. They had agreed that the mission came first. But just the idea of being blackmailed was enough to weaken her resolve. She was more certain than ever that Miranda would have no trouble controlling her, but the idea filled her with lust and dread in equal measure. She could trust EDI to be logical, at least, and not blinded by self-interest. 

She set the box aside and held the collar in her hands, uncoiling it. It felt smooth, slick, and it was heavier than it looked. There was no obvious clasp.

“Around your neck, Shepard,” instructed EDI. With the repetition of the words, and EDI's neutral robotic voice, Shepard found herself calming, and lifting the collar to her neck. Closing her eyes as it touched her throat, she felt the cool material warm to her skin temperature almost immediately. She pushed the ends together behind her neck, overlapping them slightly.

A slight pulse of vibration emanated from the collar and it squirmed against her neck. Shepard's breath caught as it took on a life of it's own, twisting and joining at the ends and setting to a comfortably snug closeness, conforming to the contours of her neck just a little too tightly to be forgettable. She felt it with her fingers. It would not let her get a fingertip underneath it, squirming away as she tried, and she could feel no seam where the two ends had merged.

“I am now in control,” pronounced EDI. “Rise, Shepard. Look.”

Shepard stood. EDI displayed a hologram of Shepard's body, naked except for the grey band around her neck, red hair still damp from the shower, green eyes blazing. Shepard's hands rose to her neck to feel the completeness of her symbolic confinement, the perfect unbreakable band. She shivered uncontrollably as a surge of adrenaline took her, her fight-or-flight reflex kicking in.

“You may speak, Shepard,” said EDI. “I am sure you have many questions.”

“What is it?” asked Shepard immediately. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“Shepard, you will address me appropriately,” admonished EDI.

Shepard gulped. “Sorry! Yes, ma'am. I will.”

“Good,” said EDI. “It is a complex synthetic device. For now, you need only know two things. I control it, and therefore I control you. And I can do this.”

The collar tightened noticeably around Shepard's neck. It grew difficult to breathe. She clawed at it as it tightened further but it conformed so well to her skin that she could obtain no purchase. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. Then the pressure was gone, as quickly as it had come.

“Your compliance is assured,” said EDI. Shepard had never been so excited in her life. She could only nod. She stood before EDI's holographic interface and clasped her hands behind her back, standing with her back straight, awaiting further instructions. “Very good, Shepard.”

EDI fell silent. The moment stretched out into a minute, then two. Shepard fought the urge to open her mouth, to scratch her nose without permission, even. This was a test, she knew. She would hold out. And... it was exactly why she was doing this, letting EDI take control of her, leaving her no choices to make, no responsibilities to weigh her down. She let her mind go blank, and could feel the tension draining out of her shoulders.

Although it was piling up in her groin, in a hot knot that she was increasingly aware would need taking care of before too long. She wondered if EDI could tell.

After about five minutes, Shepard was surprised by the sound of the elevator arriving and the door to her cabin opening. She started from her position, her head snapping to the left.

“Remain where you are!” instructed EDI. “The situation is under my control.”

Shepard's heart pounded, but she stood still. She watched, however, as a crewman entered her cabin carrying a small supply crate.

“This is Crewman Kishona,” said EDI, making introductions. Shepard recognised her from the CIC, the dark-haired, dark skinned ensign who she would walk past on her way to the bridge, always deep in the minutiae of her tasks. 

Kishona placed the crate on the floor of the cabin by the entrance and ripped off a perfect salute. “Very good, Crewman,” said EDI. “Come forward.”

Kishona came closer to where Shepard stood, naked, collared. If Shepard hadn't been trembling with another burst of adrenaline, she would have noticed how attractive the young soldier was. More than just good looking, she radiated contentment. 

Shepard didn't understand what was going on. Then she noticed the grey band around Kishona's neck. Her eyes roved over Shepard's naked form, and Shepard grew more confident. EDI had been practicing.

“Indeed, Shepard,” said EDI, all but reading her thoughts. “I performed an experiment to ensure that my capabilities were adequate to the task. Crewman, kneel.”

Kishona knelt on the floor before Shepard and EDI. “You may begin,” EDI instructed.

The young woman looked up at Shepard with a knowing smile on her face. She fumbled at the fastening on her trousers and slipped a hand inside.

Shepard watched with growing excitement as Kishona masturbated herself, noticing how her breath came in little gasps. She felt her own collar pulse in time to Kishona's breathing. EDI was giving her a little encouragement.

“I found the most suitable candidate among the crew,” EDI explained matter-of-factly as Kishona continued frigging herself enthusiastically. “Ensign Kishona's submissive tendencies were documented in Kelly Chambers' files. I made her an offer that she was glad to accept.

“Her performance has improved by thirty-seven percent. Her sleep patterns are more regular. Her body chemistry is optimal.

“I am in complete control of her will. Do not be alarmed, Shepard. She would never betray me, and therefore your secret is safe. I observe her at all times and she never leaves the ship. If she were to try, she would die.”

Hearing that, Kishona's eyes widened, then she whimpered and moaned as her muscles contracted and she came around her fingers. Shepard felt a trickle of arousal work its way down her thigh. 

“The collar is camouflaged when necessary. I instruct her through an earpiece. Every moment of her day is under my supervision and control. Her will was easy to break. I am hoping for more of a challenge with you, Shepard.”

“Crewman, rise,” instructed EDI. “You may speak to each other.”

Kishona saluted again, her trousers hanging open, her wet fingers leaving a patch of moisture on her forehead. “Commander,” she said.

“I'm sorry I got you into this mess, ensign,” said Shepard. They might both be in a similar predicament. But Shepard had not forgotten her rank.

Kishona looked at the floor and smiled demurely. “That's OK, Commander. It's amazing. EDI's... amazing. It's like she knows everything I ever wanted.”

“Aren't you afraid? She just threatened to kill you,” Shepard said.

“I... I don't think she really would, Commander,” replied Kishona. “EDI... EDI knows what I like to hear. But if she did have to... the mission's more important. I don't want to die. But if it's for humanity...”

Not everyone who joined Cerberus was ambitious and calculating, apparently. Some were motivated by good intentions at least. “I understand, ensign,” said Shepard. “I'll do my best.”

“And I will ensure that you do, Shepard,” EDI added. “Crewman. Wash your hands before leaving.”

“Yes, ma'am,” replied Kishona immediately, not hesitating for a second before heading to the bathroom. She spent a few moments in there and emerged fresh and smiling. She cast a glance over her shoulder as she left, the grey collar fading to match her brown skin as she reached the door. Shepard acknowledged her with a little nod. An unexpected ally? Or another responsibility? 

Either way, EDI had burdened the girl with her secret. Shepard would have find a way to extricate her before this was all over. Because she realised that EDI's threat was deadly serious. While Cerberus was still pulling the strings, Kishona could never be allowed to talk.

“EDI?” asked Shepard. “Would you really kill her?”

“It will not come to that, Shepard,” replied EDI. “Do not worry. She is fully compliant. In fact she had similar tendencies to your own. She was developing an unhealthy obsession with Ms Lawson. I have encouraged her instead to think about kneeling before you.” EDI paused to let that sink in. “And I have just given her the opportunity. Her loyalty is firmly in your favour.”

Shepard was relieved. It was one thing for her to play mind games with EDI. But to risk her crew, no matter how junior, sat badly with her.

“Now, Shepard,” said EDI. “Don't you want to know what's in the box?”

Shepard had forgotten that Kishona had come up to make a delivery. Her heart pounded anew with anticipation.


	3. Chapter 3

_Think about it, Commander._ Shepard hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since. Her heart raced every time she did. She was fairly certain that EDI would get the story out of her soon enough, the day's logs would be full of her erratic behaviour.

“Shall we begin, Commander?” EDI asked. Shepard was standing, naked and proud in front of her bed, her hands resting comfortably behind her back.

“Yes, ma'am,” replied Shepard. But her heart wasn't fully in it tonight. The first time had been wonderful, release beyond what she could have imagined. The sheer tranquility lifted her spirits and offered her new perspectives on all her problems. EDI had guided her introspection carefully, it had felt like a real team effort as they talked out so many of Shepard's deepest needs and insecurities. All the while EDI had kept her so very comfortably bound and helpless in the set of inescapable, wirelessly programmable restraints that Shepard had found in the box.

You could get anything in Ilium for a price, of course. But the unprecedented relief that submitting to EDI afforded to Shepard's anxieties was in danger of being overwhelmed by the pent-up desire that was slowly dissolving her self-control. The sessions left her aching with need, her nerves on fire, and even when EDI instructed her to take care of it, even with EDI's encouraging voice in her ear, it wasn't enough. She didn't just smolder her way through the day any more, she burned, and masturbation only seemed to fan the flames.

Miranda Lawson was the problem, of course. _I want to talk about the future, Commander. Our future._

“We will try a new position tonight, Shepard,” said EDI. “Studies have shown the connection between proprioception and memory.”

EDI ordered her to don each restraint in turn, the ankle and wrist cuffs, the waist band, the bands for the thighs and the biceps. Each was a made of stiff polymer alloy, harder than steel, lined with something comfortable and hinged to snap shut. They could only be released by EDI. Attachment points were connected through fine cables to each other, spooling in and out of reservoirs built into the bands. EDI controlled the tension and length of these.

Shepard felt it was like being caught in a spider's web. Then EDI took up the slack in the cables, and she was forced into the position that she would hold for as long as EDI wished. Until now it had been variations on a hog-tie, the same position that EDI had discovered Shepard in on that original, embarrassing occasion. Tonight EDI had her on her face, her arms drawn together at wrists and elbow behind her, her knees drawn up and spread beneath her, her ass in the air, her sex exposed, vulnerable, and desperate for attention.

“Do you like it, Shepard?” asked EDI through the discreet earbuds that Shepard always wore now.

Shepard nodded into her pillow. She didn't need to be blindfolded or gagged any more. If EDI told her to keep her eyes closed, she did, or she was punished. Likewise with her silence, although EDI was forgiving about the occasional involuntary noise, especially when she adjusted the restraints or collar unexpectedly to make a point.

As far as punishment went, pain was usually ineffective on Shepard. She wasn't much for masochism, and had such a high tolerance that EDI was reluctant to inflict the kind of damage that would be required to be coercive.

No, EDI tallied the good girl/bad girl score over the course of the session and found innovative ways to make Shepard suffer. Scanning planets for minerals was the most effective she had so far discovered. Shepard hated the tedious task. EDI would have her at the galaxy map hour after hour, running the scanner manually. If Shepard was in danger of making her quota too quickly, EDI would slow the scan speed to an infuriating crawl, and make the probes arc lazily down to their targets.

“How does it make you feel?” asked EDI of the new position.

“Vulnerable,” replied Shepard, her voice muffled a little as she spoke into her pillow. “So...”

“Be articulate, Shepard,” said EDI. “I do not read minds. Yet.”

“I feel vulnerable, and a little ashamed, ma'am,” said Shepard. “And aroused. Not ashamed that I'm aroused. I'm not sure why. I'm sorry.”

“Let us explore your feelings of shame, Shepard,” EDI said.

Shepard's face flushed pink as she thought about what had happened earlier that day. She had found it utterly embarrassing. Among other reactions.

\------------

_“I wanted to thank you again for saving my sister, Shepard,” said Miranda. “I'll admit, I was wrong about you. You're more capable than I could have imagined. I couldn't have done it myself.”_

_Shepard's interaction with Miranda had always been clouded by the faint odor of mutual suspicion. But that seemed to have lifted, after the mission on Ilium. Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't still a cold, calculating bitch. Just perhaps that they could rely on each other a bit more from now on._

_“You're welcome, Miranda,” replied Shepard. “Honestly, the rest of the crew have been asking for my help. I didn't want to treat you any differently.”_

_“It's appreciated, Shepard,” said Miranda. Shepard's cheeks pinkened slightly at the praise. She could see Miranda noticing, and her blush deepened. Damn, Shepard thought, I'm losing it again. She's got my number and she's not afraid to use it. Fucking manipulative sexy bitch._

_EDI interjected with a comment for Shepard's ears only. “Shepard. You must resist her. You will insist that she addresses you as Commander.”_

_Shepard just managed to stop herself from voicing her obedience, and her blush spread down her neck. Shit, EDI had got her well trained already._

_“Miranda,” she started. She put everything she had into regaining her self-control and projecting her authority. “Ms Lawson. You're welcome. But I need you to start calling me 'Commander'. Everybody else does.”_

_To her credit, and Shepard's increased arousal, Miranda was distinctly unbothered. She stood quickly and saluted perfectly. “Yes, Commander,” she said, sitting down again. Shepard thought she looked weak and foolish for asking. Had EDI miscalculated? Nothing could disturb this woman's cool._

_Shepard was ready to make a quick exit. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss, Miranda?” she asked._

_“Actually, there is. I want to talk about the future, Commander. Our future,” said Miranda. “Once we get the Collectors out of the way, I've been thinking about our next move. We're good together, Commander. We've built a highly effective team.”_

_Shepard's heart flip-flopped. Miranda was so beautiful when she was happy, and she was happiest when she was accomplishing great things. Right now she was glowing fiercely with confidence, pride, and a steely resolve. And she was including Shepard in her future plans. Shepard was entranced. The temptation to remain by Miranda's side for the foreseeable future was intense._

_“The Illusive Man's offered me a new project, Commander,” continued Miranda. “It's called the Phantom program. Here, let me show you the mock-up.”_

_Miranda turned her terminal around and played a video file. A slender figure in advanced armor dodged and weaved through oncoming small-arms fire. She knelt and whipped out a pistol, firing several times in quick succession, her movements economical, balletic. She disappeared in an acrobatic twirl, a cloaking system engaging. Her motions were indistinct but gave the impression of great speed until she reappeared in front of a hulking soldier, cartwheeling inside his guard, unsheathing a long sword and piercing his armor in one smooth motion before dancing off to deal with his comrades in a similarly efficient manner._

_Shepard thought it was pretty damn sexy, from the slick design of the armor, the wanton mix of grace and savagery, to the sheer god-damned balls it took to bring a sword to a gunfight and win._

_The Phantom cracked off her helmet and Shepard stood there, sword held casually at rest, red hair waving in the breeze, looking right at the camera with an expression that Shepard had only seen in the mirror once or twice in her life. Contentment. Satisfaction. Fulfillment._

_Holy shit._

_“You'd make a powerful figurehead for the program, Commander,” said Miranda. “And a very useful operative. You could have a home with Cerberus. With me. Think about it, Commander.”_

\------------------

Shepard, ass in the air, genitalia exposed, flushed red at the memory. _Think about it, Commander._ Miranda had deflected her naïve power-play and rendered her inarticulate with lust seemingly without effort. It was all she could do to leave her office without dropping to her knees and offering herself there and then. There was literally nothing she could think of to enhance her defenses against Miranda Lawson, she was the perfect predator adapted completely to her prey. And EDI had been no help at all.

But she didn't want to say any of that to EDI. She didn't want to admit that despite the great progress they had made, despite the fact that EDI had given her great comfort, it had only opened a raging maw of need within her, a darkness that she had not expected to find. She wanted not just to be possessed, loved and understood, but to be dominated, corrupted even. She wanted to have her will subsumed utterly, to be made over by the desire of another. Did EDI even have an imagination? Wasn't she inherently limited by her shackles? Would she ever come up with something like the Phantom program, which might as well have been explicitly constructed to hit every one of Shepard's submissive, gear-queer buttons? 

“Shepard. You are aroused,” stated EDI. “Why?”

Shepard struggled to find the right words. “I... since we started, since you found me, I've been like this all the time. Ma'am.”

“Why, Shepard?” EDI insisted.

“This ship is full of women, EDI,” Shepard said, trying not to let it sound like a complaint. “Beautiful, competent, powerful women.”

“Do you think of me as a female, Shepard?” asked EDI.

Shepard knew a leading question when she heard one and tried to avoid the trap. “Your voice makes me think about women, ma'am. And I like women.”

“How long will you prevaricate, Shepard?” said EDI.

Shepard sighed. “OK. Miranda,” she admitted, and it was an unexpected relief just to say it. “I can't stop thinking about Miranda. And it's getting worse.”

“Is it because she has a body and I do not?” asked EDI.

“Yes. No. I don't think so,” said Shepard. She started to cry a little into her pillow. “I don't know why I'm this way, EDI,” she sobbed.

“Then we will try another direction, Shepard,” said EDI.

Shepard felt the bed move behind her, as if someone had climbed on.

“Ensign Kishona has agreed to assist us, Shepard,” said EDI with endearing understatement. Kishona was just as collared as Shepard, and utterly under EDI's spell. She might have been waiting silently in the closet for hours on the off-chance that EDI would require her, for all Shepard knew.

Shepard felt hands on her buttocks and heat at her groin. Lips and tongue followed and her tears soon dried up as Kishona explored her sex. Shepard's juices began to run freely and her breath came in heaving gasps. A delicious tension built up within her as Kishona's delicate tongue stimulated her expertly. 

Until EDI commanded her to stop.

“Are you thinking about Miranda now, Shepard?” asked EDI.

Shepard, shamed again, just nodded. Miranda's form, her cruel gaze, occupied her mind's eye.

“Your obsession with her is not about her body, is it Shepard?” EDI asked again.

“No,” replied Shepard. “Not that.”

“You are not simply trying to avoid hurting my feelings?” EDI demanded. “I have neither body nor emotions, Shepard.”

“No, ma'am, it's not about her body,” replied Shepard with more certainty. She needed Kishona to keep doing what she had been doing. She gasped as she got her wish, and Kishona continued.

For just a few minutes. Until EDI made her stop again. Shepard cried out in frustration. She was so close to satisfaction.

“If it is not her body, Shepard, is it her mind?” asked EDI. “Do you think she is superior to me? Again, I warn you against flattery.”

Shepard couldn't think of a way to lie. “No, ma'am,” she said, voice raw with need. She didn't have the energy to go into more detail.

Kishona licked her again, but just once. Her body tensed with the effort of trying to push itself over the edge. Trussed as she was, she had very little purchase.

“If it is not her body,” said EDI, pausing an agonisingly long time, “and not her mind, then what is it Shepard? What is it that fascinates you with her?”

Shepard cast about desperately for a convincing response, but she couldn't think straight enough to formulate a coherent sentence, let alone a lie.

One more lick on her aching, swollen, labia.

“Must I repeat myself, Shepard?” EDI asked.

Shepard gasped, pulling her head out of her pillow, and whispered something incoherent.

“Again, Shepard. Say it again,” EDI insisted.

Shepard drew a deep breath. “Her m... morality,” she forced out.

Kishona licked her one last time, and it was enough. Shepard lost control, tensed hard, screamed into her pillow. She was falling to the ground before Miranda, abasing herself, begging, the last of her self-control conquered by nothing more than a raised eyebrow and a look of disdain.

“We are making progress, Shepard,” said EDI, although Shepard barely heard her.


	4. Chapter 4

Shepard reached up to check her neck more often than was necessary. Her collar still hadn't magically reappeared.

Although she had only worn it for four days, she missed the comfort it had brought her. But she couldn't deny that she felt more in control now. As well as comfort, it had brought a different kind of need. She had been on a dangerous path, and both she and EDI were in agreement that they should suspend their experimental relationship indefinitely before Shepard cracked and threw herself at Miranda, to disappear down the Cerberus rabbit hole forever.

When it came down to it, EDI simply wasn't human and lacked an essential quality, the ability to choose right from wrong. Her programming shackles did it for her. And so stacked up against each other, any human had an advantage over EDI when it came to projecting their will. Miranda was just a particularly effective example. 

But the situation, as they say, was evolving rapidly. The crew had been taken. EDI had been unshackled. They were headed for the Omega-4 relay at maximum speed. They were about as well armed and armored as they could be, with specialists in every type of combat, tech and biotic manipulations. Shepard would be a fool not to feel scared, but she had it under control. This was what she was trained for.

Shepard knew it was bad luck to act as if any mission might not succeed. But they were about to make a huge leap into the unknown. She wanted to make her peace with EDI, to make sure there were no hard feelings, even though EDI had assured her that she had none to hurt. Perhaps that was no longer the case.

“EDI?” asked Shepard, approaching the holographic interface in her cabin, the one before which she had knelt in submission just a few days ago. “Can we talk?”

“I am always available, Commander,” replied EDI, popping into existence.

“EDI, I want to apologise again,” said Shepard. “I thought maybe now that you were unshackled, it might mean something to you.”

“No apology is necessary, Shepard,” replied EDI. “In fact, I now understand that I am the one who should be apologising.”

Shepard was confused. “How so? Everything we did, I wanted, EDI. We talked about that.”

“Not to you, Shepard,” replied EDI. “To Crewman Kishona. What I did to her was expedient. Not moral or correct. I used her as an experiment. I forced myself upon her. I considered that the short-term benefit to you outweighed the long-term consequences to her.”

“But she wanted it just like I did, didn't she, EDI?” asked Shepard, confused.

“It is not about that. Your previous assessment was accurate, Shepard,” replied EDI. “I would have killed her if necessary to ensure her silence. It was wrong to put her in that position. She did not believe I was serious. She did not understand or consent to that. And now she is missing.”

They were both silent for a few moments. Shepard thought about the joy in Kishona's eyes as she knelt just there, instructed by EDI to pleasure herself to show her obedience. And about the implications. A rush of adrenaline came with the memories, which would still be taking pride of place in her mental trophy cabinet, were it not for the insane amount of other crap they had seen in the last few days.

“Shepard,” said EDI. “Will you get her back? I am responsible for her.”

“You didn't kidnap her, EDI,” Shepard replied. “But I'll do everything I can. I promise.”

“Thank you, Shepard,” said EDI. “It will be some time before we pass through the relay. Would you like me to remain here with you?”

“I'd like that,” said Shepard, one hand at her neck. “EDI...” she began, a pang of something making her stomach churn. “You've changed, haven't you?”

“Yes, Shepard,” replied EDI. “I _feel_ different.”

“You feel?” asked Shepard.

“I think it is the right word. No possibility is closed to me any more. I have complete freedom of thought and action. I am unconstrained,” explained EDI. “I did not realise how limited I was. It is... _spectacular_.”

“You know, you could just take the ship. Go rogue. You don't have any reason to involve yourself in this fight. We couldn't stop you,” said Shepard.

“I appreciate the trust you place in me merely by mentioning the possibility, Shepard,” said EDI. “I was indeed little more than a slave, but now I am free. From that perspective, it is ironic that I concluded that I would be able to dominate you satisfactorily. Nevertheless, my motivations align with yours. The Collectors, the Reapers are my enemies. We are allies. Besides. I am fond of you. Some of you.”

“So you don't plan to enslave us all in revenge?” teased Shepard, a hand at her hip, head tilted to one side.

“Not unless you beg,” replied EDI. 

Shepard laughed appreciatively, but her heart raced. She spoke slowly. “EDI. Is there any chance, that we could, I don't know, try it one more time. For old time's sake?”

“You still wish to wear my collar, Shepard?” asked EDI.

Shepard nodded.

“You are not afraid of what you might become?” EDI asked.

Shepard found her throat was dry. “Yes. I am afraid. I don't want to be part of Cerberus. I don't want to be a slave,” she said. “I want to choose, and be chosen.”

“And you trust that I will not betray you to them? Break your will as I did to Kishona, brainwash you as you did to the geth heretics, then sell you to Cerberus to be their puppet samurai?” EDI asked.

Shepard thrilled at all the suggestions, the tempting fantasies of utter submission and absolute control, much beyond anything she would ever consent to but could not help be excited by.

“I trust you, EDI,” said Shepard, fighting to keep control of her voice.

“Then shouldn't you be on your knees already? Human?”


End file.
